Jimmy Wells Version of After Twenty Years
by Grtgbln1313
Summary: I wrote this for Language Arts homework one day, and now here it is. This is Jimmy Wells side of the story from "After Twenty Years" by O' Henry. Enjoy! Comment! And check me out on  as well! Same pen-name!


**Jimmy Wells Version of **_**"After Twenty Years"**_

I was roaming around on my late night route, checking every alley in New York for any odd activity. I twirled my club in various patterns which to the untrained man would seem almost impossible to imitate, but force of habit and repetition has made this act simple. I was strolling down on of the blocks on my routine pathway when I slowed myself to a stop at the sight of a man chewing on a unlit cigar while standing in the empty doorway of the hardware store, as if waiting for the place to open its doors despite the fact that the building closed hours before and wouldn't open for hours more.

The man spoke quickly with great speed when he noticed me approaching him. "It's all right, officer" he exclaimed, his words somewhat unclear due to the giant roll of tobacco stuck in his mouth. "I'm just waiting for a friend". The stranger then rambled on over how he and his friend had scheduled this appointment twenty years ago to the date. The whole time, little did this person know that I was the one he was waiting for. I was Jimmy Wells, the companion of Bob that, at this very spot twenty years before, had befriended the man only to have to see him leave. The one that struck a deal that one score in time we'd join each other again in the spot that we had departed.

I responded to Bob's monologue as a normal officer of New York, purposely keeping my identity hidden from him. It had to be just the right moment to finally reveal myself. My friend then continued on with his story of that faithful night at "Big Joe" Brady's where we talked and laughed and discovered each other. Yet again, I asked questions in response, concealing myself as an everyday Joe Average. Finally, the pressure was too much for me, as like a balloon that's overinflated is ready to burst. The first letter of my confession slipped off the tip of my tongue, ready to dive out of my mouth when the man I was sure was Bob lit the cigar he'd been playing with in his mouth.

It was at that moment that, by the light of the burning flame on his match that I was able to clearly look at the man's face. His face, shadowed deep under his eyes and covered with a dim cover of flickering orange light, matched almost exactly to the image of the man on the poster I'd noticed earlier, and, as sadly and cruel as it felt to admit, the poster of which the person's face was on was a wanted poster, warning folks of the criminal who worked in Chicago, but at this moment, was standing three or four feet in front of me.

Any normal person would probably scream, run, yell for help, or any combination of the three, but as a keeper of the peace in a place as criminalized as New York, I had but one choice: I walked away. But not without reason. I made it seem natural. "Going to call time on him sharp?" I questioned the criminal as I turned and began to leave. "I should say not! I'll give him half an hour at least." _Perfect_, I thought. It would give lots of time to work out the next step in my plan. "Good night, sir." I finished with as I took my first step in the opposite direction.

I hadn't the faintest idea of what I was going to act out on next. My mind was still unsure of what to think of what I had just witnessed, but my heart had already made its decision, for it weighed heavy in my heaving chest, almost as if it were weeping for the destiny that had been acquainted with my dear friend, My legs soon gave out from all the running I had done to escape the person I believed was my nice old acquaintance and not a heinous thief once I had rounded the corner two blocks away from the doorway where we had conversed.

Thoughts of all sorts scribbled through my mind, etching them on the inside of my brain, only to be erased and replaced with a new thought. I knew I must do something, or else bad things could happen not only to me and my reputation and job, but also to the general public. Ideas were thrown at me like snowballs pelting children in a snowball fight. My torso felt as if it, at any moment, would rip open and have millions of racing horses and angry mobs and fireworks explode out into the night sky. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, allowing me to view the long line of potential options at hand. I grasped the first idea I could manage and used it, for the sake of everyone involved.

It took me three additional blocks, but at last, I discovered yet another late-night wanderer. I quickly informed on the task at hand, keeping the notion that this person we were dealing with was Chicago's most wanted criminal at a somewhat low mention level, and eventually was able to convince him to take the job on. The final issue was a rather easy one; with a scrap piece of ticket paper, I scratched a note upon it, handing it to the stranger and ordering him to give it to Bob once he was under custody.

Now all I could have done was wait, and within a mere fifteen minutes, the stranger returned to where he was originally, where I stood waiting for him, ready to receive good news, and that's just what I got. The man I trusted had done his duty and done it well, so much now that we agreed on doing the same thing that Bob and I had done before, only this time, he knows he's dealing with a New York officer, and yet, you never know…


End file.
